


Dig Two Graves

by kay_obsessive



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Post-Dishonored (Video Game), Pre-Dishonored 2 (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_obsessive/pseuds/kay_obsessive
Summary: The knife held at his throat trembles."You should have waited," he says calmly, "until your father finished training you."





	Dig Two Graves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orethon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orethon/gifts).



Emily Kaldwin looks too much like her mother when she finds him, not simply her pale skin and dark hair but the same fierce anger burning through her gaze, the same regal defiance even when looking death straight in the eye.

Daud has no intention of killing another empress today.

He keeps his hands at his sides and tells her, “Whatever answers I give won’t satisfy you. I did it because I was paid to. It was nothing but a job for me – one I should never have taken on, but that regret matters little now.”

“I didn’t come here just for answers.”

He glances down at her hand. “No, I didn’t think you did.”

Her stance is strong, but the knife held at his throat is trembling. From fear or anger, he isn't sure, but it means an unsteady hand either way. Still learning, still all too easy to counter.

"You should have waited," he says calmly, "until your father finished training you."

The knife steadies for a moment as her grip tightens. “He’s taught me plenty.”

“Has he, now?”

Daud clenches his fist, and the Void rushes to answer his call, letting him slip behind Emily in the blink of an eye. He grabs her wrist before she can even finish her startled gasp and wrenches it painfully around her back until she loosens her grip, dropping the knife into his open hand. He then turns and shoves her away and takes a quick step back, putting them both right where they started the confrontation mere seconds ago.

The weapon now in his hand is a fine one, well-crafted and elegantly decorated, less gaudy than he would expect from someone of her station.

He admires the knife for a moment longer, then holds it out to her, handle first. “Go back home,” he says. “You won’t kill me today, and I won’t fight you until you stand a chance of it.”

But she does not take her knife back, staring instead at the hand that gently grips the blade. “I saw Corvo do that once,” she says, her words a wondering murmur. “Only once, when he rescued me, and then I half convinced myself I’d imagined it, the fancies of a little girl.” Her chin jerks up, and she meets Daud’s eye steadily. “He’s had a tattoo like that on his hand since then, too. Do you need that to do what you did?”

“Not always,” he admits slowly, uncertain but wary of where this might be heading. “The power can be shared sometimes.”

"Teach it to me," Emily orders, demanding as only a royal can be, and he lets out a bark of laughter in his surprise.

He lowers the knife and turns to walk away, shaking his head. “Go home, Your Majesty.”

Emily’s hand snakes forward to grab his arm, and she throws all her weight into wrenching him back around. It’s unexpected enough that he actually stumbles for a fraction of a moment before regaining his footing.

“Corvo will never teach me this,” she says, “and I won’t leave until I’ve had my chance to kill you. If you want me trained before we fight, you’ll have to be the one to do it.”

There’s a fierceness to her curiosity, a desperation for the power he’s let her glimpse that is nearly enough to drown out the anger, and it intrigues him enough to stop him from immediately dismissing her again. He flexes his hand and wonders if he even has the ability she seeks anymore. It’s been many years since he tried to share these powers, and Emily Kaldwin is far from being one of his dedicated followers.

Of course, loyalty to Daud was never the requirement, despite what he told his Whalers, using their desire for power to keep them in line, and he’s always been curious what might be needed instead.

He shakes off her grip and shoves her knife into his belt, the decision made before his thoughts even fully run their course, and he reaches out to her. “Give me your hands,” he says. 

The Outsider’s mark glows the instant her fingers brush his, the light reflecting the vicious hunger in her eyes.

Daud lets his own eyes close. It’s not the first time he’s given someone the tools to end his life. Perhaps this one will finally manage it.


End file.
